So, the Cicadas Return
by HayashiOkami
Summary: Due to a family curse, each night Sho leaves his corporeal body to speak with a boy with horns. He finds in him a medium to live the life he has been denied, but as his involvement deepens the two are drawn together in a culmination of dying camellias.
1. Night 1, We Think, Therefore We Are

_**So, the Cicadas Return**_

_Due to a family curse, every night Kaneyama Sho leaves his corporeal body to speak with a boy with horns. It is through this boy that he finds a medium to live the life he has been denied, but as his involvement deepens with each passing night the two are drawn together in a culmination of dying camellias._

_**Night One,**__ We Think, Therefore We Are_

Were dreams reality and was reality a mere accumulation of sensible dreams? The tangible darkness seemed to be undeniable proof that the room and objects settled in the shadows were real, and that the cicadas would not cease their songs despite his efforts to will them away. The day that replaced the dark never failed to return, the activity and vitality of life beyond the door and walls mere centimeters thick always in logical flow. These facts never changed. No matter how many scientific journals and encyclopedias he searched, day was _always_ day and night was _always_ night, with no variation except in dreams.

A dream that was reality did not exist. Dreams _symbolized_ reality, reflecting inner desires or fears according to any book on the subject. Except in the realm of fiction where magic and dragons were possible, dreams were never another realm in which physical desires and actions could be satisfied. Seventeen years had proved and solidified these elementary facts, and seventeen years had also disproven every single one with the same brush used to paint night and day. For normal people, dreams were dreams.

For Sho, dreams were his days, the opportunity to step outside the house and wander the streets of any city or town in Kochi prefecture. The festivals were his favorites, seventeen years old and depressingly cynical or not. As a child the tourists had captured his intense attention for months at a time and as a teenager he found intense solace in the mountains' lively solitude. More than any of the peers he had never met, Sho experienced the diverse wonders of the world that encompassed Kochi with intense attention.

The tangible dinner of rice, steamed vegetables, and savory meat slid down his throat at impossible speeds. Every now and again he choked and swallowed long draughts of water until everything was gone. Neatly sliding his chopsticks across the empty rice bowl, he opened the door and slid the tray into the hallway. When he was younger he had taken the time to wash the dishes himself in the adjacent bathroom, but those days were long past. The servants were paid to clean the house, anyways. Satisfied, he drew the heavy curtains shut across the single window overlooking an expanse of forest and mountain, despite the fading daylight.

His eyes were comfortable in the dark, so he shut the overhead lights and quietly slipped between the covers of his bed. Though a familiar friend, he always had a crawling disturbance whenever he lay flat on the bed, as if he were settling in to sleep with another stranger every night. At certain points his hands twitched on the sheets and his body tingled with the promise of pleasure, but he had resisted those desires for quite some time now and urged them away with a deep breath.

One hand finally moved without hesitation, flying to the night table and grasping the delicately sharpened object on the cool surface. Eyes still closed, he positioned his hands across his chest and squeezed the instrument between three fingers. When he knew he had a firm grip, he pressed the point against the tender flesh of his other hand at an angle that pierced the skin with a minimum amount of effort. The barely healed barrier tore with ease as he traced familiar shapes, the warmth of blood seeping over his hand, through the sheets, and on his chest.

His brows naturally tensed at the pain, but he fought to relax his eyelids and maintain careful breaths. With practiced ease he conjured images in his mind, first of blackened text from the books he had read that day, and then of places outside and of one person in particular. The lithe boy too skinny to be considered healthy with eyes that never searched beyond a certain point formed from the darkness. He traced every contour of the boy's features until he had completed the picture, and willingly slipped into the "dream" of Sugita Makoto's reality.

The foster home was a busy, rambunctious household unable to accommodate a proper conversation. Sugita had just slipped on his beaten sneakers and yanked the door shut when Sho walked up to him, hands folded behind his back and his bare feet padding against the concrete. The younger boy pushed a few inky black strands of hair behind his ear and trotted down a few dusty streets until he reached the rusted park where only the older kids hung out. With an emotionless face devoid of any human characteristics besides a mouth, a nose, eyes, and all the rest, he kicked around stray cans and wrappers in silence.

The cicadas sounded identical here. Sho frowned, avoiding garbage and broken glass as he trailed after the boy. He tugged at the folds of his pajamas, feeling infinitely silly in his night clothes. Not that there was anyone around to laugh. He had never heard so much as a snicker from Sugita in the months they had been speaking. The boy did not bother questioning those types of things.

"What did you learn in school today?" Sho asked as the boy sent a glass bottle flying, the object shattering as it crashed against a metal slide. His fists were clenched, his shoulders giving a little shrug. Bemused, Sho said, "Well, _I_ read Discourse on the Method by Descartes and listened to Arashi's new single, at the same time of course. I choked on my dinner and rushed to meet you, without even waiting for the food to digest."

"I'm touched," Sugita muttered sarcastically. Though his tone came off as harsh, Sho understood Sugita's gratefulness between the cold words and stiff posture. Some people were not experts at expressing emotions, Sho included, and so he had developed a certain skill towards reading an individual's feelings. The boy continued, "I learned that if you stick chewing gum in a girl's hair, she'll still cry and screech at this age. And people don't like it when you throw baseballs at their noses. But beside that, we started a chapter on the Meiji Era and the revolution."

Sugita was an outcast by nature with a disagreeable personality and distinguishing features people were naturally disturbed by. Sho, who had been surrounded by disagreeable personalities his entire life and always felt detached with other people, had chosen this particular boy to "haunt". If possible, it was the boy who had almost never stepped outside the ten meter area surrounding his room that was the more sociable of the two. Sugita refused to call them friends, but spoke to him as if he were another person on the street.

"Tonight we'll take the train into the city, since today's Friday. Promise me you won't do anything stupid. Weird things have been happening in other parts of Japan, so I don't need you to draw any unnecessary attention to me like before." Sugita spoke differently from others, or at least that was Sho's impression. He had never spoken to anyone his age except for his cousin, Akiyama Norio, and Norio had a unique, intelligent pattern of speech. Sugita was much more informal, borderline rude on most occasions.

"I won't do anything odd," Sho promised. The boy stepped away from the park and started down the street, unconcerned about whether or not Sho was behind him. Sho was always behind him despite his numerous protests, even when he took a minute to go to the bathroom. Not that Sho _stared_ or anything, but he wasn't fond of standing in a narrow hallway so that people could pass through him without batting an eyelash. He never thought he caused _that_ much mischief, but had read the news his cousin brought him lately.

The possibility was high that Sugita was far beyond a normal middle school boy. The only reservations Sho had were the boy's apparent sense of judgment and his obvious gender. Of the latter Sho _had_ confirmed that Sugita was a boy, purely by accident, of course. While Sugita might have been unnecessarily morbid and had a tendency towards violent thoughts, Sho personally found little problem in it. There were times when _he_ entered bouts of depression and intense pits of loathing. There were times when he humored the idea of leaving his house.

Not that he would be able to function properly if he stepped out that door. The real world, as it had been dubbed, could possibly push him over the delicate balance maintained in his room.

Sugita's _problem_ had everything to do with his dyed hair and red eyes. Most people assumed he was albino and kept their distance anyways, but most people had never seen the odd protrusions on his head. Sho had his fair experience in bone matter from detailed pictures in medical journals and from a few incidences of personal understanding, but he had not understood Sugita's problem in the least. Protruding bone was normally an ugly sight and painful to the point of deliriousness, but Sugita had none of that. The protrusions didn't hurt unless they suffered some sort of trauma, just like any other body part.

"Hey…do you have a problem with this? With me following you around and all," Sho asked after a time. The streets were mostly dark by now, as shadowy and looming as the warped dimensions in his room. Others had reacted badly to his presence in the past, some spiraling into the depths of insanity and others so desperate that they killed themselves. _A ghost,_ people had called him before_, a vengeful ghost_. He prodded Sugita with a finger crusted over in blood when he didn't receive an answer. He liked the boy; he was the only person who had never overreacted when he touched them.

"Not really," Sugita finally responded. His loose tone was enough for confirmation. "You're better than the other me. Even though you do stupid things sometimes, you're not really violent. You don't tell me to kill things. And well, I can talk to you and you make sense, most of the time. Even if you're annoying, you're less annoying than the other me. It doesn't bother me much."

Satisfied with the answer, Sho leaned down and wrapped his arms around the boy's shoulders, exhaling a light laugh that shifted the black hairs sneaking out from beneath the hat on his head. Sugita's reluctance to touch him amused him, even as he dejectedly released the boy and fell back a step or two. To that day, Norio was the only human being who enjoyed and could stand touching him affectionately. For him to carelessly disregard human contact as important was foolish, and for him to announce that he was independent of it was also foolish.

Sho truly craved contact, more than Sugita could ever understand. The younger boy hated being around people and complained about others at every chance he had. Sho was unable to comprehend people in any significant way, but he ached for the ability to sympathize and share common empathy with them. Instead, this desire dragged him farther and farther away from social competence and he wound up rejecting all around him. That desire for touch, however, never left. Any book on development and growth had scientific proof that touch was essential to both humans and animals.

"I wish you'd let me touch you…" Sho whined after his companion, innocently and perversely with the same token. He had never interacted with others well, and had every understanding of maturity and sex from books and Norio's limited explanations. No matter how many years he pleaded for, Norio refused to breach the title of cousin. He never touched Sho in any way he deemed "inappropriate". The furthest he ever went was to embrace him and perhaps press his dry lips to Sho's forehead if he was feeling unwell. Whether this was because Norio simply didn't like guys or found incest wrong and disgusting was up for debate.

The point was that Sugita didn't appreciate his words or actions either. Sho gave up easily, aware that Sugita would never compromise on much, let alone this issue. Besides, the boy actually _spoke_ with him instead of screaming in fear. That was an improvement for both of them, apparently. Not that Sho understood what life was like while suffering from schizophrenia.

"I want something to eat. Get something and go eat in a movie theatre! I never watch television at home," Sho rambled as they boarded the train. There were few passengers boarding at this time, so Sugita chose the seat farthest from the others with Sho right next to him. He knew that his happiness was affecting Sugita by the moody airs about him, but ignored it. Sugita would blatantly tell him to shut up if he truly hated what Sho was saying. Not often, but sometimes he did silence the older boy in such a manner.

"Hey, haven't you ever…wondered if I'm real? Maybe you're dreaming or maybe I'm not here at all and you're just crazy…haven't you ever thought about that? And if I'm real, where's the real me?" Sho considered after he had calmed. Of course, _he_ knew that this was a dream of reality, and whatever happened to him here happened to his "real" body at home. But Sugita had never really asked about it before, just accepted his presence in stride. "I, of course, consider myself real and existing. That's why I read Descartes today, but existence can be rather subjective if you ponder it hard enough."

"…Sometimes," Sugita said slowly after a time, "Sometimes I consider you another piece of my imagination, another detachment of myself somewhat like the other me. However, I also accept you as real. _I_ know I'm all too real. And you can't be part of my imagination sometimes. Though truthfully, I don't care either way. You can be real or imaginary for all I care. Even if you do exist somewhere that is your concern alone."

"I exist. I live in Kochi, the same as you, in a huge Western styled house at the edge of a forest and a mountain. My family never allows me to leave my room. I damage my body every night to experience this separate life where I can have a _self_ and feel as if I belong in society, while in reality I don't understand people at all. Sometimes I even wonder if I can be called a human being when I am such a horrible character. 'Human beings' are strange creatures I cannot relate to in the least. Speaking with them and walking among them gives me great apprehension and anxiety.

"Should I take one step away from formerly established doctrines, I feel as if people will immediately catch me for the lies I live. By slipping past my masks, they will understand in a single instant the worth of my worthless life. Though I've read every respected book on the subject, understanding human behavior is still a challenge to me. Of course, I theoretically know why a person does the things he does, but I cannot understand how people are ruled by these actions. If that makes any sense, that is," Sho finished. "I cannot say I have ever experienced true love or true hatred. Does that make me inhuman?"

The subject of humanity, this questioning of existence, always struck Sugita the wrong way. Perhaps this was due to the bone protrusions on his head and his innate _wrongness_ among people, but Sugita never felt as if Sho were different from others. He included the older boy in his definition of "society" and "human beings". It was he himself who did not belong, Sugita argued. Sho stared at the boy's dark green hat with an expression of long suffering discontent. It was no secret that Sugita hated his current position in life. This was the reality that belonged to another, and to Sho it was the greatest thing in the world.

"Existing isn't enough," Sho continued. "You have to live your life, too. You have to find and give your life a meaning by walking in this world, experiencing different things and testing new waters. That is what human beings do. Animals cannot accomplish this. Even a migratory bird will never travel outside its predetermined path of flight, nor will it ever question why and how things are the way they are. It's not easy to define the word 'human' that is for sure. What is humanity, what are humans? What is the difference between humane, inhumane, and inhuman?

"Are we related by general body make-up or by our thought processes – the fact that we can experience emotions and formulate questions? Do our perception and actions in this world affect the definition? No matter how many books I read, I fear I'll never find that concrete answer. Freud says this, Descartes and the Queen of England says that. _You_ say _I'm_ human and _I_ say _you're_ human. Do you see the quandary here?"

Sugita cast him a glare from the corner of his eye and faced the opposite wall again. The moody boy crossed his arms and pretended to sleep, regarding the being beside him with calculated calm before scoffing. He muttered, more to himself than to Sho, "It doesn't matter; humans are all rotten creatures anyways."

The seventeen year old leaned against the seat and breathed a deep sigh of whatever air his incorporeal body consumed. The train's rumbling nature traveled up his spine, through every piece of him that came in contact with any surface. The plastic seats were cold beneath his fingertips. He drew his lanky legs up and hugged them tight to his chest, his feet freezing and body shivering. The bright white lights seared his eyes, but he refused to close them for fear that if he did this dream would melt away.

"One day I'll walk among the rest of you. No matter what happens, please promise me you'll like me 'till the very end…To tell you the truth, I don't expect to live much longer. My entire life has been in wait of that final moment," Sho said softly, tone gentle, as if he were explaining to a child a terminal illness. It caught Sugita's attention, inevitably. He had never spoken about such topics in the months they had known each other, despite the wide variety of things he mentioned.

With a wry, invisible smile Sho continued, "When I turn eighteen my parents will be able to kill me."

"I don't understand," Sugita said bluntly, now awake. Sho shook his head and exhaled a breathless chuckle. His fists clenched the folds of his pajamas, pale knuckles turning a more ghastly shade of white.

"They won't be accused of murdering a minor. In their official records I am mentally unstable, so it won't be so outlandish if I acted out and tried to hurt someone. It would be manslaughter, self-defense in court. My entire life they have kept me sated with whatever material objects I desired; even my beloved cousin was forced to befriend me as a child. He had once been afraid of me, I think, even though I'm younger. They have kept me satisfied and indebted to them since. I would rather have lived a half life than not to have lived at all, after all."

"_You_ of all people are not such a monster," Sugita said. To the casual listener his voice maintained an air of unperturbed calm, but to Sho, who had heard this boy's every thought and manner, it was a voice of discontent. He _was_ perturbed by Sho's words. It came in small ways, through his slight motions and the influx of his tones. He might as well have been screaming his disturbed nature. Sho shrugged and withdrew his slightly numb fingers. He folded each one down as he muttered the months until his birthday.

"It's July and my birthday is in the beginning of March. That gives me roughly nine months. Nine months to enjoy myself in whatever way I want," Sho declared, though by nature of the topic he wasn't very happy.

The two boys were silent for a long time. Sho thought about nothing in particular, his mind wandering through phases of literature and math and science texts as the time ticked off. Sugita finally spoke after four stations had passed. There were more people on the train, so he kept his voice very quiet and muffled in the crook of his elbow.

"That's not fair. What have you ever done to anyone besides a little mischief? Do _you_ see what I mean? Humanity is rotten. Even relatives are horrible monsters to each other. Your own _parents_ want to kill you; doesn't that say something? My parents loved me, on the other hand, but for some unfathomable reason I caused their deaths. I really hadn't meant it, but had no chance to properly explain. So, they died with betrayal on their faces. No one has loved me since; I have not loved anyone in turn.

"If humans are defined by morality, then we are all monsters. There is nothing redeemable about humans, humans who destroy each other and their surroundings. The earth had been peaceful before humanity came into being! Now they will even devour their own kin…Why won't you fight it? If you don't want to die, then live. It's simple. An animal understands that much about life. Get back at them or run away and change things."

Sho allowed the information to dutifully sink into his head before he formed a proper response. He chose his words carefully, pronouncing each with care. "Nothing in life is ever simple and nothing worth _something_ ever comes out of things that are easy to accomplish. There are also times when every possible effort you exert into some task may never come to fruition. No matter how hard you endeavor, your efforts will never be realized; they will not even succeed in fact. We cannot determine how we are born, but we can choose our decisions.

"That is not true for my family and me. Our decisions and choices are created at birth. I can no more escape my blood than you can escape those protrusions on your head. If I run away, I will be hunted down and slaughtered for the fraud that I am. It is better to die quietly with a little remaining dignity than to die with utter shame. Others may disagree; many philosophies would disagree, but that is my firm belief. Besides, I have absolutely nowhere to go. My cousin wouldn't help me no matter what.

"…However, perhaps I myself fear happiness," Sho contemplated in a low tone. "All I have ever known is discontented happiness. That is why you must live for me. Live, so that maybe I'll change my mind. If it is worth the fight, I'll gladly take on the challenge."

A long time passed, then, "Sho…have you ever thought about killing someone?"

"Perhaps; I am human, after all. I am an unfortunate human. Why?" he asked bemusedly.

"Because I'm not human and the other me isn't either. He tells me weird things, but I like you as a person, so I've never listened to him seriously. I was wondering if everyone gets the urge to kill every now and again and how they would go about it. You know, whatever's happening on the news, is a horrible way to die. Being killed by strangers would be frightening, but being killed by those who were supposed to love you is even worse. No one my age thinks like this. I know it."

"A narrow-minded mouse asking a narrow-minded rat about the world of birds is a conversation that will never get anywhere…" Sho said with a flick of a wrist. He closed his eyes very briefly as his mind kept the afterimage of the train's interior, memorizing each and every detail so that he could rest without retreating to his room. But as his mind also conjured the picture of his beloved cousin, gentle smile and laughing eyes and all, he naturally faded from the reality of the dream. "Personally, if Norio were to be my executor, I would die happy with no regrets."

"_I think, therefore I am._" (René Descartes)

* * *

><p>• This isn't a new idea; it's been baking in the back of my mind for months now. Reading Rocci's Elfen Lied epics had influenced me, though for the longest time I had no idea how to incorporate the scrambled ideas in my head into a cohesive story. A thanks goes out to Rocci for creating such wonderful stories.<p>

• Perhaps the idea of male Diclonius' have been becoming a trend in EL stories? I'm incredibly bad at writing female characters, especially as main characters, so I really had no doubt about creating a male. I've also noticed characters with Western or non-Japanese names living in Japan in many stories, and that is one of my pet peeves of anime/manga, so my characters are Japanese with all of their values, customs, etc. "Sho" is the main character's first name while "Sugita" is the Diclonius' surname. "Norio" is his cousin's first name. Japanese believe in a type of spirit called the _yurei_, and some of these are the vengeful sort unable to pass on to the afterlife.

• I think a warning is unnecessary in the EL fandom, but this story will probably include the usual gore, mature themes, etc. Sho _does_ have incestuous tendencies towards his cousin, because his cousin is one of the only people he has ever held a real conversation with and had a real attachment to. His cousin is also a guy. If any of it bothers you, don't read it. The story will also have heavy tendencies towards literature and philosophy, as well as quoted passages, none of which I own. I don't own the group _Arashi_, either.

• There were heavy references to Osamu Dazai's book _No Longer Human_ in this chapter, in which the main character cannot feel as if he is a "human being" because he sees himself isolated from society, unable to communicate and relate to others. Note that Sugita uses "human" and Sho uses "human being". Sho has, of course, read this book many times.


	2. Day 1, Philosophy of Fight and Conquer

_**So, the Cicadas Return**_

Due to a family curse, every night Kaneyama Sho leaves his corporeal body to speak with a boy with horns. It is through this boy that he finds a medium to live the life he has been denied, but as his involvement deepens with each passing night the two are drawn together in a culmination of dying camellias.

_**Day One, **__the Philosophy of Fight and Conquer_

Clear little blades of morning light struck his exposed eyelids through the window. The dark, heavy curtains had been tied back with silky, tasseled rope. The weight and warmth belonging to another living human shifted in the bed beside him. With a deep groan he curled onto his side, his entire body aching from the past night's activities. One arm wrapped around the waist next to him while the other was captive in his guest's hands. Though it was a useless gesture, he wanted to keep his eyes closed in order to remain in that dream world for a little longer, fully aware that it had ended hours ago.

Gentle, calloused hands rubbed his own with a wet cloth warmed by a bowl of hot water on the night stand. These were familiar comforts, so familiar that he didn't need his sight to formulate a perfect image in his mind's eye. The lightly tanned skin against his own pale complexion, the tilted lips, and dark hair obscuring every other feature were finely detailed. He remembered the slightest mark of imperfection on his cousin's upper cheek, right below his eye where Sho had struck him long ago. It had faded with time, now no thicker than a pinprick, but Sho envisioned it as a newly opened wound welling with blood.

"If you wake up, I'll give you something good," Norio teased him. Before he opened his eyes Sho could already see the smile on his lips. His cousin wasn't really perfect or the most handsome; he was average, but with a kind heart. His invisible beauty made him a perfect human being in Sho's eyes, despite his faults and insecurities. A perfect human being was not without emotions, jealousy and hatred included, but defined in that person's manner of action. For Norio, this conclusion was the truest and purest Sho could come to a real definition.

Without moving much, his cousin twisted around and plucked something rather small off the night stand. The first item was another book, probably a volume he grabbed from the massive library downstairs. The second was a much rarer commodity, a delicacy. Sho tightened his hold on Norio's waist and carefully accepted the gift, regardless of his cousin's obvious amusement at his caution. Like most children Sho was fond of sweets, and unlike most children, almost never consumed any. Norio was against unhealthy foods and rarely brought him anything that wasn't nutritious, reasoning that his diet must make up for his lack of exercise.

"Have I ever told you that you're my favorite little cousin?" Sho said in a voice muffled by Norio's loose sweater. The two boys laughed together in the narrow bed by the window, a little box of sugar candy between them, and a white plastic bowl dyed watery pink on the night stand. The dried blood absorbed into the cloth had seeped into the water; the rim was already permanently dyed a reddish pink. Bandages and ointment were neatly stacked together on a wooden tray, and the CD player was on the floor.

_An average day,_ Sho thought as he slipped a candy into his mouth, _another night of people completing odd tasks for the purpose of routine. _Norio almost never visited at night unless there was a party, and generally his aunt and uncle kept him occupied for hours until they allowed him to retreat upstairs. Most of their family lived in this single house, but Norio did not always visit. Sho understood; his cousin attended a private high school every day of the week, and oftentimes had a massive burden of homework that kept him busy for hours. At night, his cousin was not generally in the mood or state of mind to see him.

They passed the morning speaking about whatever topics came up, though in general their conversations were never typical of their age groups. The only piece of modern culture that Sho followed was music and literature. They played the classics of Mozart and Bach at noon and booming rock at one, replaying whichever bands had once captivated them for any amount of time. While they listened they picked apart pieces of a novel or textbook that had piqued their interests and debated over philosophy and meaning. They laughed like brothers and embraced as friends.

Evening's watery streaks intruded upon the room's occupants, throwing every object into a sea of fire. A heavy wall clock inscribed with Western letters ticked off their precious moments together. It was a dark wooded thing with a surprisingly short history despite its aged appearance, for Sho had been prone to tantrums as a child and in his early teenage years. Its ancestors had long since passed away, each the exact replica of the last. Some years ago he had given up and hung the clock far up the wall where it was out of the way. Taking his anger out on inanimate objects never satisfied him and served only to anger his parents.

That clock chimed three short bells as the hour changed, and then fell silent once more. Norio's head tilted in the sound's direction, the bell heralding more than progression of time. His cousin returned his attention to Sho, though his smile had morphed in the spilt second the motion required. In response, Sho's smile also wavered, and eventually faded to a quiet, contented appearance. Norio brushed the knuckles of one hand across Sho's cheek, so gentle it was a ghost's touch. The tips of his fingers lingered along the strands of his hair.

"…Do you love me, Norio?" Sho muttered against his cousin's hand, his indecisive eyes fluttering against the sunset's glare. Previously they had been discussing an anthology of poetry written by some of the finest minds in history, some of them even accompanied by their original English translation. Of course, Norio had mastered English much better than Sho, who had never had a single person to practice on despite his efforts to learn the language. He supposed it helped that Norio had an invested interest in it anyways.

"Have you always loved me?" Norio's good-humored eyes were dark against the orange water colors behind and around him, but beyond his kind intentions lurked a much darker beast, and Sho could see it as clear as day. He watched in expectant apprehension as his cousin's thin lips began to form carefully constructed syllables while maintaining their tilted angle.

"Of course I like you, but I don't _love you_. It's not like English; they have different meanings, Sho," Norio reminded him gently as if it was the first time they were having this particular conversation. Sho nodded, pretending to accept his cousin's explanation as he shuffled closer to the other boy's side. "I don't need to say how long I've liked my cousin, do I?" he asked in partial amusement.

"No, of course you do," Sho refuted. Though his voice had turned bitter, he remained pressed against his cousin's side, refusing to release him. Outside, the fiery color palate was quickly receding into the horizon where the pointed forest met the sky. The hazy peak of the mountain beyond rose from the dark mass of trees, a nearly ambiguous figure shrouded in the uncertainty of human vision. While he offered no further explanation, his cousin's tightened grip on him confirmed that they were both on the same subject. "You don't have to pretend. You won't hurt my feelings, you know."

Norio lapsed into silence and allowed his slightly taller form to slump against Sho's thin frame. Though Sho had no ability whatsoever for telepathy, he instinctively understood the heavy emotions running through his cousin's head at the moment. An idiot could see guilt sloughing off him in waves even without glancing at his face. For the most part, Sho did not have it in him to experience remorse for his callous comment. Of course Norio loved him now, and that was what truly mattered, but Sho had no other chance to express his frustrations and bitterness.

"Because of their successful planning, I can't even imagine what it would be like to escape from this contrived, loveless world. I have been robbed of that privilege, too. The mind is not limitless, as a great philosopher once said, at least not the minds of those born under our family name. I cannot imagine what it may be like to be loved unconditionally or to love another unconditionally. Not even to you," Sho said as he backed away from his cousin's warmth. He was reluctant, too attached to the presence of other human beings, but knew Norio was hurt and probably didn't want to be touched by him of all people.

"They are intelligent, ingenious even," Sho accredited to them with a contemplative voice that had wandered away from its original steely tone. His index finger lightly traced the contours of the angry, raised welts on his hand and the lighter, white scars that webbed over his veins. "No matter how much I hate them, I have no desire to strike against them or to escape this room. In theory, it wouldn't be very difficult to escape. But I have little desire to do so, even knowing what lies beyond these walls.

"That is what I can call a true strategy, winning the war before the battle has even begun. Crush the enemy's morale and resources without destroying him and in theory, the results are beneficial to both sides. No, it's not really a theory at this point. It's true. Fighting is not the epitome of excellence. In our case, our family has won the war before I was even born. You know what I'm talking of, right? You take those types of classes," Sho confirmed unnecessarily. Norio shifted in discomfort, his head jerking once in response.

"Sun Tzu, the Chinese strategist and philosopher who debatably wrote _The Art of War_," Norio recited. "He believed to take an enemy virtually unharmed was best over destroying his resources. Wars are not won by battles and the outcome of one is determined by the planning beforehand. It isn't so good to irreparably destroy the enemy and neither is it good to run your army into the ground."

Sho nodded in satisfaction and drew the curtains shut over the window, the light fixture on the ceiling emitting a dim golden glow. The room was swathed in shadows once more. "I think it's about time for you to leave. You parents will worry that I've done something horrible to you again," Sho pointed out with almost too much sensibility in his tone. Not that he had pulled anything against his cousin in years. He had no desire to hurt the only person who cared for him from the bottom his heart.

Norio cast him a curious, worried glance as he gathered his belongings. Sho waved the concern away and flashed a quick smile, as if conscious of lurking witnesses. His cousin grasped his hand all of a sudden, running gentle fingers over his scars with a familiar distress. Sho had torn the bandages off when the skin had closed somewhat, too bothered by the itchiness to leave it be. The only reason he allowed his cousin to trace their outlines was because he craved his simple touch.

"I wish you wouldn't do such things to yourself. These will never disappear."

"I haven't had much of a choice. Besides, it's this freedom that makes me contented," Sho shrugged as he began to withdraw his hand. The pain was superficial, just another nuisance in his life. The scars hardly bothered him anymore. It wasn't as if he were ever going out in public. It wasn't as if he would live beyond the next ten months, at most. He gave his cousin a light push towards the door with a pleasant farewell. "You should worry about your studies more. I'll be fine; I always have been."

"_Hence to fight and conquer in all your battles is not supreme excellence; supreme excellence consists in breaking the enemy's resistance without fighting._" (Sun Tzu)

* * *

><p>• The story will be set up by <em>Night<em> and _Day_ chapters, but they are not necessarily in order as in "Day One is the day after Night One", though they occur in chronological order. The _Day_ chapters are also typically shorter and involve Norio and Sho's relationship more. If it bothers anyone, the _Day_ chapters will also probably have more homosexual themes. The inspiration for this chapter is Sun Tzu's _The Art of War_, a treatise on warfare that is applicable to many other subjects as well.

• Language Note: When Norio is 'correcting' Sho's use of the phrase "I love you", it can't be translated too well without sounding awkward. Sho said something like "kimi wa ore o sukidesuka?" which technically translates to "Do you like me?" However, in Japan they use "suki" to also express love as in "I love you" = "suki desu". I'm not sure what the translation would be for Norio's correction, but Sho meant it in a romantic way. Note that "aishiteru" is typically an intimate "I love you" used between lovers.


	3. Night 2, a Discourse on Family

_**So, the Cicadas Return**_

Due to a family curse, every night Kaneyama Sho leaves his corporeal body to speak with a boy with horns. It is through this boy that he finds a medium to live the life he has been denied, but as his involvement deepens with each passing night the two are drawn together in a culmination of dying camellias.

_**Night Two,**__ a Discourse on Family_

Sugita had not yet forgiven Sho for ditching him on the train that night. Not that he had _meant_ to disappear all of a sudden, but it was quite impossible to reverse the effects without slicing into his hand again. Sho didn't think he had enough blood left for another round and wound up asleep each time he returned to his body, anyways. The blood loss exhausted him, so he always allowed sleep to take his consciousness. Besides that, Norio had been particularly sensitive over his scarred hands lately, and he'd promised his cousin that he'd restrict his nightly adventures.

As a result, Sugita was not talking to him. The odd boy refused to answer him, refused to acknowledge that he even existed, no matter the extent of his efforts. That was okay, Sho grudgingly accepted, seeing as he always did the talking anyways. This wasn't so much different. It was just this detached air- as if Sho were not really there at all- that truly burrowed beneath his skin. It was somewhat similar to the treatment his family extended to him throughout his entire seventeen years of existence.

Ignore the shameful smear on the family name, and everything would be okay. Pretend that he doesn't exist. There is nothing in that empty room at the end of the hallway on the third floor except for copious amounts of dust. Norio might be a little touched in the head, so he sometimes goes in there. That was all. There was nothing strange about their family whatsoever.

"I'm kind of glad I'm not related to you," Sho stated. They- more like _Sugita_ alone- were situated in his foster parents' house, in the guest room where Sugita stayed. Unmarked notebooks and textbooks were open in front of him. A small, almost unperceivable frown crossed his flat lips. He tugged his hat further over his head self-consciously. Sho eyed him from his position splayed out on the bed. "Well, if you didn't act like that, maybe I'd want you as a little brother. You don't have to respond; all you have to do is acknowledge my existence."

Sho plucked a pillow from the bed and tossed it at Sugita, eliciting an irritable grimace from his impassive face. He turned ever so slightly towards the bed to toss the pillow back where it belonged, in turn satisfying Sho temporarily. "Right, so, family," he said. "I don't want you as family because my family sucks. You'd suck too, if you were part of it, particularly as my brother. My family doesn't like to accept that I exist. I doubt that some of them even know I was born, in reality. I'm being brutally honest here. What constitutes a family? Because I don't think I have one."

"Welcome to the club. At least you have your beloved cousin," Sugita sneered at last. The broken silence made Sho beam, but he restrained himself from launching himself halfway across the room. Sugita pressed the tip of his pen against a notebook, marking down tiny dot after tiny dot. It seemed he wasn't getting anything done. "At least you didn't kill yours."

"Hey, I'm hurt. Don't you know me at all? I _want_ them dead. If you can kill them, too, I'd forever be in your debt. Unfortunately, I have no means or ability to murder my family. It's complicated; I wouldn't expect you to understand. Besides, it's not like you killed them with your own hands. It's different." Sho played around with his words, but he concentrated on the boy on the floor as he spoke. There were lines that should not be crossed, after all.

"It's not even blood that counts. Blood, if anything, complicates matters. Because I'm so closely related to them, I am indebted and unable to retaliate against them. And I love Norio so much, but he's my first cousin. I'm sure if it were another lifetime, Norio would learn to love me as something more. He's never expressed any negative sentiments over such a thing, after all. And he loves me. Just not as a lover, apparently," Sho lamented. He plucked at the sheets and pondered the possibility of someone walking in while he did so.

"…Hey, I need to ask you something," Sugita said after a time. Sho lifted his gaze to the boy, but remained as silent as the air. His soft breaths were the only sounds he emitted. "How…how are you so _happy? Why_ are you so happy? Your family wants to murder you and you've never left one room since the day you were born. You won't kill them and you won't escape. Tell me how that makes sense. Tell me how it's humanly possible."

"That's a long story," Sho said. "But I can tell you that it _isn't_ humanly possible. Normal people would crack after a time, especially if they have the means to do so, which I do. But it has nothing to do with human reason as to why I am the way I am. It's all in the blood. It's in my cursed blood. Yours may be mutated, but mine is not of this earth at all. I am not supposed to exist. _Something _like me shouldn't exist on this planet, which is why I will soon die. Humans fear the unnatural. Fear leads to hatred."

Sugita was unable to comprehend, just as Sho expected. That was a granted since Sho hadn't provided the story in its entirety. Vital details were omitted and even if supplied with those details, Sugita might not have been able to understand the complete picture.

"So let me segue into a related topic: what's been on the news lately? You're fine here, in isolated Kochi, aren't you? So long as you don't cause trouble and don't reveal those compromising features of yours, you should be fine. And if you ever have trouble, I can lead you to a spot that is safe. You won't ever be found and you can live quietly without fuss or hassle, even if it might be a bit lonely. But it won't be, because I'd visit you and maybe you could meet Norio. Then again, I'm not sure I can entrust my precious cousin to you…"

"You're rambling."

Sho paused. "Right, I am." He tended to do that when he hadn't spoken for long periods of time. When he was curious or nervous, his mouth also seemed to fly away from him. Both boys in his life brought his attention to the habit without a fleeting bit of hesitation and he supposed he understood why. He frowned, trying to rework his words so that they regained some sense of meaning and impact. What had been his point, exactly? If it was about those murders, it would be easy to talk about.

"So, I've always wondered…" he said after three minute had passed on the blinking green alarm clock on the nightstand. "Those murders on the news…can you do those things, as well? You are very obviously male. You haven't been any more violent than a typical boy your age that's had a tough time of it, though. Seriously, you know it won't change my view of you much. I've been told that I'm stubborn."

Sugita was a normal little boy. That was Sho's observation from his limited, yet worldly perspective. Actually, if he had to pinpoint it, Sho would have said that Sugita _was_ a different type of boy. Unlike everyone else in his life, Norio excluded, Sugita actually bothered to listen to his ramblings and tentatively called him a "friend". It was exceptional, so in that sense Sugita was far from normal. His mutated hair color and bone protrusions seemed insignificant. Most people only avoided him because he was moody and in foster care. Besides, Sho dared to say that he was just a _little_ weirder.

"…I can," Sugita said in a very low, uncharacteristically vulnerable voice that was barely above a wisp of breath. The one word forced from his lips jarred along the way out, as if he had to struggle to breathe it. Sho allotted him all the time he required to form proper sentences again, twiddling with the bed sheets as if he had the all the time in the world. "I…I can do it. They're like long, invisible hands. Just like you, normal people can't see them. They're pretty solid, but can also pass through most substances- except for heavy, dense things like ore. At least, that's what I managed to piece together.

"I'm actually more like those girls on TV than you think. I'm not afraid to admit it to you, if only because you'll be dead by this time next year. But it's all true- we really are capable of such acts. And it's as easy as breathing," Sugita exhaled, as if the task were particularly laborious for him now. Sho didn't press him, though he supposed that the boy would answer if he did, because he at least understood isolation and discrimination due to a particular curse. "I've wanted to kill people before."

"_Between the motion and the act falls the shadow,_" Sho quoted. He stared at the small mirror on the dresser across from him. There was no reflection. He, as a ghostly being, did not exist in this proper world. "It's a blessing that you live in Kochi. No one will find you here. And if they do, you have a particularly invested ally. I've told you before- it is very difficult to define a 'human being'. If you were to abstractly consider the word, you might be more human than me. People might not see that, but people do not see a lot of things."

The house was loud as ever. The little girls across the hall were giggling over something in their room and the little boys were carousing around with a football- the American kind- with shattering results. Compared to the rest of the household, even against the eldest, real daughter, Sugita was perhaps the best-behaved. Besides his chats with Sho he always minded his own business and never caused his foster parents unnecessary grief. He was a good boy. He only caused his classmates misery.

"Say, where did you get a conscious from?" Sho wondered without malice. Curiosity motivated him, as he himself had a warped conscious compared to that of his cousin. Sugita shuffled uncomfortable for a time, so long that Sho had already moved onto another topic when the boy decided to speak.

"My parents loved me. There were people who cared, once, people who disregarded my hair and horns. But because of who I am I erased them from my life until there were only people who hated me. Other than that, I'm not sure. I just decided to stop listening to the voice in my head eventually. And then I met you and I didn't need it anymore." He paused. The sky was pitch black and his room glowed amber gold. "I wouldn't mind it so terribly if you were my family, even if you're a little messed up. I want that second chance."

It was the first time Sho had ever heard such words from Sugita's mouth. The boy was undoubtedly reserved and imparted his emotions sparingly. He had never before spoken of second chances and any profound fondness for Sho. For months he had deemed his invisible stalker a nuisance and an obstacle. It had taken him two full weeks to realize that his invisible hands didn't work on other invisible items or people. Not that he would have done more than push Sho away with a little more applied force than necessary, he reminded himself sharply.

Sho allowed the boy to complete his homework in peace. He occupied his time with careful examinations of his surroundings, gazing about the cozy room and comparing it to his own formal abode. Sugita had no personal belongings of sentimental value that Sho knew about, but the room was still warmer than the one he had inhabited since the day of his birth. Even the plain bed sheets held a live, musty smell. The modern design of the desk and dresser were only objects he had seen in magazines and movies before.

"Sometimes…" he pondered as Sugita was packing away his school books. "Sometimes I wonder if they would have loved me if I were not born this way. Would they have adored their first son, spoiled him with good intentions, and nourished him with their distant, but parental love? Had I been normal, would I have ever seen and relished in Norio's inhuman kindness? I try not to think about it too often, I try not to become too bitter, but sometimes that doesn't work and then I throw tantrums. I'm really nothing more than a child."

"Children don't tend to have such negative views. They seriously believe they're invincible," Sugita scoffed and let out a dark chuckle that betrayed the ease with which he spoke the comment.

"I never have," Sho retorted, quite unwilling in every way to consider the implications of that statement. When he had first discovered the extents of his power, no amount of ego swept him off his feet while he treaded the grassy forest outside. The wonder and awe in face of the relative freedom never ceased to exist, but he had never once believed immunity possible. No matter how far he traveled or how absorbed he was with his surroundings, waking up meant another lonely day, a fake cousin coming to spread his fake cheer, or a barrage of pain he didn't want.

Of course, some things had changed. Some had not. Norio had changed. While Sho liked to idealistically believe that his beloved cousin had always loved him, it was the worst lie. He had turned around, yes, but for a time Sho had dreaded those visits more than the loneliness.

"I'm leaving," he murmured as Norio's hazy image came into focus. The little boy from back then glimmered in his mind. The first child he had ever seen besides himself had had a beautiful face when he was not thinking about Sho. It was not beautiful in the pretty sense, because at that time Sho had no mind to determine other people as "pretty" or "ugly". No, Norio had been beautiful because he had been happy.

Tonight his eyes fluttered open. Painted streaks of moonlight crawled and swam across his body, over the crusting blood and weeping wound. The moon from the mountains was always the most beautiful. Lights from civilization dulled its glow. Sho groaned as his hand twitched; the pain was a sharp contrast from the relative peace he had been in during his rest. He was used to the sensation already, but pain was pain. His opposite hand set to work cleaning and bandaging the scars the best he could manage, since that hand had also suffered in nights previous.

The clock was hard to read, but it wasn't that late yet. Time always flowed differently between his visits and his "real" time. His family was still downstairs socializing and relaxing before bed. The faint sounds of human interaction from below came through the vents and floors. For a split second in which his hand did not throb so much, he could faintly imagine himself among those family members he had never met. A smile, however small, crossed his lips. Perhaps Sugita wouldn't have made such a bad brother after all.

His feet traversed the confines of his room with ease in the dark. The little bathroom's stark white lights invaded his senses as he wearily washed away the crusted blood on his hand and tossed the dirtied towel in the hamper. The blood never really came out, so he asked Norio to bring him dark colored ones.

As he flicked droplets of water off his fingers he heard the door in the bedroom beyond slide open against the carpet. The hinges were kept well-oiled, so the door itself never made any sound. In the past that muted, chafing noise struck icy fear through his entire body, his limbs quivering and eyes dilating in terror. He had cried and whimpered in a corner, silently pleading and screaming aloud for this floor's occupants to hear. He had never asked for any of them except Norio. He hadn't had any sense or state of mind to think of calling for help from anyone else.

In the further past, he faintly recalled _waiting_ for that sound. It was the only human contact provided to him and he clung to each syllable and hit as if they were precious touches.

Nowadays he accepted it with a stony countenance. They were all words he had heard a thousand times before without a single deviation. The pain was less painful. He didn't allow himself to be hurt any more than necessary. Quietly, head lowered and betraying his fuming anger at the injustice of it all, he entered the bedroom and greeted his father with a few muttered words.

"Sho," he said unexpectedly- quite unexpectedly. The boy in question started in surprise and prayed that his movement had gone unnoticed. A dark frown crossed his shadowed lips. It had been years since his father last spoke his name. The man began to pace, exhaling heavy huffs of frustration or anger. Sho kept his head bowed, eyes carefully trailing the man who had been the reason he existed. He shivered when he stepped out of view. It was always a game of some sort, even if his father did not intend for that.

"Japan is in a state of quiet emergency. I wouldn't expect you to know this, but there has been a recent…epidemic around the country. It interests you, I'm sure, to know that there are people out there who are slaughtering whole masses of innocent people in seconds. No bombs, no nuclear weapons; just demon children like you," his father explained. Sho knew all of this already, of course, through Norio or his little friend from the outside world. "The government is trying to contain it, naturally. They will start investigating, digging out those monsters before they can hurt any more innocents. That search unfortunately includes our family as well.

"Though it hasn't been done in decades, we have no choice but to remove you from this room. Norio-kun will stay by you at all times. You will answer whatever questions the officials ask and never, _ever_ reveal to them what you are. There will be no way to hide those disgusting hands of yours, but we will write that off as self-mutilation in search of attention. Of course, you can't have those strange symbols on them anymore." His father's large, firm hands, the same ones he had once ached for no matter the consequences, snatched his wrists and tore the bandages from his raw skin.

Sho could not say he expected any better of the man who gave him life. He understood the deep consequences of discovery, though. There was a reason his family had always hidden their cursed sons away. The government would interfere and find out that the curse was more than spiriting away a soul from a body. It had once been used for much darker, dangerous acts. Though most of the family had forgotten ways to invoke those forms of power, it was not impossible to rediscover them.

What he was really concerned about as his father unsheathed an antique, decorative knife from his side was Sugita. He had to warn the kid the next possible chance he got. Sugita was a good kid, a good boy. And Sho knew just what dangerous situations did to the mind. It unlocked many gates within the human constitution. People were strongest when threatened. If Sugita had managed to withhold his abilities and murderous intent up until now, it was great and all, but he could never separate those bone protrusions from his head.

Sho winced at the first contact. The sharp blade, its metal no longer pure silver from age, cut into his skin at random. The first slice broke both branches of the main veins, and he dizzily processed the wash bin normally used to clean his wounds being placed below his hands. That wasn't so bad, the first cuts. Even though his newer scars burned, he could transcend the pain. He was just lucky that his hands were small and thin.

His arm and legs trembled after a minute, shaking from the override of stimulus. His mind maintained every bit of textbook knowledge he had to distract him. There were gates to pain and a pain threshold. Adrenaline had a tendency to shut some of those gates, which had once been a survival mechanism. Conscious thought about pain also controlled them. This gate control theory was a complex study, but seemed pretty solid. Sho breathed deeply, wishing that he could react and push that adrenaline through his bloodstream, but his father would be furious.

His weak constitution made his vision flicker and blur around the edges, but he refused to give up entirely. His father continued with his other hand, but the pain had long since dulled. Shuddering breaths escaped his lips and he collapsed to his knees, bent over in a haze of sweat and tremors. Low keens broke from his silence, tiny little wails he swallowed in a stupid act of pride. It would be much better to scream and let the entire house hear the pain his own father was causing him, but Sho was stubborn about the things he controlled.

When he collapsed his father bent over and instead of committing another cruel act such as choking him or hitting him, grabbed some towels he had brought with him and wrapped them around his son's fragile hands. The flesh was torn terribly and so obscured that he could barely make out the details. He couldn't feel his fingers. Tears were probably dripping from his eyes. He tasted copper. Though it hurt, his father pressed firmly on his hands for a time, trying to quell the bleeding. He wasn't being unnecessarily inconsiderate.

When he figured enough time had elapsed, he bound the towels to Sho's hands with strips of cloth. Despite the cruelty that was fresh on his skin and heart, Sho struggled to catch his father's attention. The man titled his head a fragment at Sho's weak, animalistic pleas. A wavering, weak smile was across his lips and the warmth in his eyes was probably the closest it would ever come to being filial. The man, after having lived a life deprived of emotion and public displays of expression, turned without so much as a twitch in his son's direction.

The door closed with another muffled scrape and the room fell into darkness. Beyond those walls and the thrumming of frantic blood in his ears, Sho heard his family. They might send Norio upstairs tomorrow to tend to his cousin's wounds. It barely crossed Sho's mind to be hateful or vengeful. He just wanted his cousin. He wanted his cousin to hold him and tenderly care for him, and to press his lips against Sho's forehead or cheeks. It was probably asking too much to pray for him to actually kiss him.

Then again, he thought it had been too much to ask for if he pleaded that his father might show him an ounce of kindness. Even if it was out of his best interest, his father had helped him. His father had quelled the flow of his blood and wrapped his wounds for his immobile son. He wouldn't allow the government to take him away and use him for the curse his veins nourished. They were still a family, however distorted and dysfunctional. Sho closed his aching, reddened eyes and curled in on himself as the warmth in his chest spread to consume his limbs for a little while.

He would not kill his family.

"_Cruelty towards others is always also cruelty towards ourselves_" (Paul Tillich)

* * *

><p>• "<em>Between the motion and the act falls the shadow<em>" is a quote by T.S Elliot. The gate control theory exists. It's exactly as described in the text, if a little more complex than that.

• So things begin to fall into motion...Before his time is up, Sho will discover many new events worth more excitement than his whole seventeen years combined.


	4. Day 2, Transcending Nature

_**So, the Cicadas Return**_

Due to a family curse, every night Kaneyama Sho leaves his corporeal body to speak with a boy with horns. It is through this boy that he finds a medium to live the life he has been denied, but as his involvement deepens with each passing night the two are drawn together in a culmination of dying camellias.

_**Day Two,**__ Transcending Nature_

Norio had cried for him. When his cousin first entered that room, the morning's shadows had almost made him believe that Sho had died from blood loss. Hysterics erupted from his mouth and he screamed murder at the man standing in the doorway until his voice grew hoarse, until Sho stirred enough to gently tug at a strand of dark hair. The grief had touched him and he relished, albeit guiltily, in his cousin's heart wrenching sobs before he pried his eyelids open. He supposed he had appeared dead. Lack of blood had made his already shallow breathing during the night even shallower.

The towels were still damp and blood had stained the coarse material his father had placed beneath his throbbing hands. The slightest twitch from breathing too hard sent sensation rolling up his spine. His hitched breaths appeared to have frightened Norio beyond any extent Sho had seen on the boy's face in all the years they'd known each other. His dark eyes were wide in distress, still fuming behind the grief. It had taken a while for his usually calm cousin to compose himself and begin to tend to his wounds very, very carefully.

Sho didn't want to see the marred _flesh_. There couldn't have been any skin left after that assault. Norio lost his composure numerous times, rushing to the bathroom on the pretense of needing supplies, and broke into fits of tears on occasion. His father remained stoic at the doorframe. Sho didn't know why he stayed. As if he didn't feel vulnerable and miserable enough without his father's scrutiny and disapproval aimed at his cousin. It wasn't his fault that he couldn't handle his little cousin's mutilated hands. Sho wanted to frown, but it required more muscles and energy than he could expend.

His father finally gave up and relieved Norio of his duty as he called another family member up. Having failed in his task, Norio clung to Sho and cradled his head in his lap, shivering and whispering unintelligible words that sounded comforting. Someone Sho had never seen before entered his little realm, a woman with sleek black hair in a bun and creased wrinkles in some places. She wasn't that old, younger than his father by quite a few years. She placed a gentle hand on Norio's shoulder before she began to clean his right hand and smiled at him.

As time passed, his cousin's fingers working through his hair, the woman washing the gashes, Sho began to drift away. Not into sleep- the pain had wired his nerves up to intense levels. He was cold despite the summer heat, though he supposed that was the air conditioning. That was not the only source of his chill, however. This woman disturbed him deeply. He had never seen a woman from his family before besides his mother, strange as it sounded, and his mother had stopped seeing him when he was six.

She had intruded on this tiny room, his limited and caged sanctuary where no other relative dared step foot. Whenever she looked up to smile, it was never directed at him, but at Norio. They were comforting glances that dissolved into twisted frowns of disgust at the shape of his hands. She murmured comments under her breath and shook her head repeatedly. Though, Sho had to give her credit where it was due: she tried to be as painless as possible.

When she took the needle and thread from her supplies, he freaked. Of course he had extensive knowledge on how the process worked, but Norio had never stitched up his wounds and he was not wholly comfortable with this woman jabbing at him with a pointy little dagger. He didn't make much noise in fear of his father's wrath in the doorway, but showed his discomfort as she tried to keep a firm grasp on his wrist. Norio was whispering in his ear loud enough to be heard, trying to still his frantic body.

"Don't do it, mom. He's not going to stay still long enough for you to get even two stitches done," Norio reasoned with a sensible voice that wavered only a little bit. Sho was simply shocked to find out that the woman was _Norio's_ mother. He called her "mom" and she heeded his advice, replacing the needle and taking out antiseptics instead. This was his aunt- one he had never knew existed. Sho did calm considerably, acting a little better with that knowledge. He pressed his face against Norio and breathed harshly.

The nightmare was over after a long while of chronic pain. The woman had given him painkillers halfway through, after Norio quietly asked for them. His father never let him have painkillers or any other types of drugs. They needed to know if it was okay to breathe that rule. _They needed permission to give his son an over-the-counter drug to kill his pain._ It wasn't a normal sentence by any means. That combination of words should not have been possible.

The pills only took off the edge. Norio forced water down his throat and massaged his back with firm hands as the sun rose higher outside. When they were finally done and the woman finished with her job, she leaned over and embraced her son for a brief moment. From his view below them, Sho could see the obvious affection there anyways. She gave his shoulders a last squeeze and slipped from the room, nodding to his father on the way out. The man shook his head at the slightly stained carpet and gestured for Norio to take him into the hallway.

His cousin folded his arms over his chest and lifted him with the utmost care, and for the first time in years, Sho emerged from his room and into the hallway just beyond his door. The next room over was completely different, much plainer of course, but different. Norio laid him on the bed and drew up next to him, unwilling to stray from his side though both Sho and his father told him to leave. The older boy refused, stubbornly running his free hand through Sho's sweat-dampened hair as he clung to the bed.

When his father was gone Norio murmured, "I can't believe he did that to his own son. And he let it go until morning!" The boy frowned deeply, staring at some distant point on the far wall. "Now that it's happened, I guess I have to tell you what the plan's going to be. We're all pretending that you're homeschooled because of your weak body. Because you can't socialize very well and everyone else is really busy, you've taken to hurting yourself for attention. You like it to be noticeable, which is why you don't touch your wrists.

"None of us noticed of course, except me, because they've been so busy. But now they know because I finally told them and we're getting you 'help'," Norio scoffed. "You don't have to talk much, and they'll probably as you a few questions, maybe prod around your head a bit. They're not supposed to do anything else. Of course, they're probably going to stay for dinner because our family's involved in those politics and such. You can sit next to me, so it'll be fine.

"It goes without saying, but you can't draw anymore symbols on your hands until they heal more. You might really cause irreversible damage if you do that. Your nerves can be damaged so badly you might never feel again. Or you might feel pain all the time," his cousin said grimly. The news, the restriction, struck a deep chord of fear in Sho's muddled head. Sugita needed to know, needed to run and get away. He _needed_ to return to that world. But to placate his cousin, he nodded.

"It frightened me so much when I heard what he'd done," Norio said, sliding down to slip between the sheets as he held his cousin close, intertwining legs and arms. They had done this often as children and still indulged in the intimate contact sometimes. Sho relaxed into the embrace, breathing a soft sigh against the bare skin at the base of his cousin's neck. Norio played with his hair, lips pressed against his forehead. It was so hard for Sho to recognize that Norio took this as purely platonic. "Seeing it was much worse," he said.

"No one reacted badly to his announcement, either. They were upset that you were coming down, but barely anyone twitched when he said he was going to _mutilate _your hands." Norio's bitter tone was still soft, considerate of Sho's sensitive state. His senses were still on high alert. And his hands throbbed so badly he wanted to cry again. He really wanted to curl up next to his cousin and sleep, but he was afraid of crushing his hands.

Finally Sho managed to ask, "That…that was your mother?" Norio nodded awkwardly against his head.

"She knows I love you. At the beginning she didn't want me to visit you, and I get the feeling that she still doesn't like you very much, but I get so sad when I think about your father hurting you that she volunteered to help. She _said_ that she 'doesn't think he has any right to do that to his child'. Not as if anyone else would want to come up here and help," he said. Just from his voice Sho could picture a frown on his cousin's face.

"You don't think she meant it? She's your mother, right?"

"Your mother thinks you're a cursed monster. Not that I mean to hit a nerve by saying that, but it's true." Sho shook his head, not offended in the least. There was no way he _could_ be offended by so simple of a fact. "My point is that parents aren't always right. Sometimes they lie for your benefit, the ones who love their children. She knows it makes me feel better because I care so much about you, so she said that to placate me. She's a grown woman; even with your father standing behind us I think she'd still have smiled at you if she really believed in that statement."

Sho nodded. Still, he recalled those glances of reassurance and quiet support between mother and son. He supposed he didn't need a mother when he had Norio beside him, but it would have been nice- like how it was nice to have chocolate. He yawned with the thought and burrowed against Norio the best he could. He was exhausted even though he'd gotten up not so long ago. Every nerve in his body tingled and he couldn't think straight anymore. The air conditioning in an empty room like this one was still cold, but he was warm.

"Stay with me for today, please? I'll take the blame if my father says anything about it," Sho murmured. His cousin nodded and told him to go to sleep, and that he'd be there for as long as possible.

Sho's sleep pattern was erratic. Dark, hazy images floated around him, taunting him as he swept between the real world and the dream world interchangeably. They were broken by intervals of awareness and blinking, lazy eyes that lasted for a few seconds before finding sleep again. Sometime during the afternoon Norio had sat up and was reading a book. Sho had fallen down with a fever that struggled to fight infection in his hands. It rendered him intolerably hot and cold at random. He was tired, thirsty, and achy.

He didn't remember a single dream or nightmare, thankfully. His few waking moments were plagued with thoughts of the boy in a faraway place in Kochi and his reddish-pink roots. He had to warn that boy. Norio's safety must never be compromised, but it _was_ impossible for him to make any marks on his hands. He doubted he would be able to make the tiniest slice without an onslaught of pain. No, he had read up on his scientific texts enough to know that it _was_ dangerous to continue like this.

Sugita would be safe for now, he reassured himself. Until his hands healed, Sugita could hold out. He was a smart boy- if he heard any suspicious talk, he'd be on guard.

If it was that simple, then why was Sho so worried?

"_History, despite its wrenching pain, cannot be unlived, but if faced with courage, need not be lived again._" (Maya Angelou)

* * *

><p>• This is a filler chapter, I admit. It's just an angsty filer chapter. At least you get to meet Norio's mother?<p>

• For the next chapters, I'm wondering if I should move the plot along with something drastic? Or should I go the less drastic route that may be a bit more plausible? Either way, more action will happen soon. The "visitors" are arriving soon and Sho is finally going to be able to leave that floor for the first time since he was born.


	5. Night 3, a Monster in the Abyss

_**So, the Cicadas Return**_

_Due to a family curse, every night Kaneyama Sho leaves his corporeal body to speak with a boy with horns. It is through this boy that he finds a medium to live the life he has been denied, but as his involvement deepens with each passing night the two are drawn together in a culmination of dying camellias._

_**Night Three,**__ the Monster in the Abyss_

As he was but a simple human boy, Sho's hands healed with intense slowness. The knitting flesh screamed in renewed pain when he shifted position for days, sometimes taking him to the brink of embarrassing tears. A week passed in painful waiting as he regained his composure and Norio gradually departed from his bedside. Each visit he inquired as to the state of affairs in the government, learning more and more about the world he had been so ignorant of for years. His beloved cousin had no reason to suspect him for inquiring about the military's supposed investigations for "horned people".

The month of leaves* had reached its dying days before Sho had an opportunity to etch the symbols in his skin without immeasurable pain plaguing him. The cicadas in the thick green forest beyond were sounding their last songs in the bloody red water colors that consumed the land's canvas. Norio had pleaded with him numerous times when he pondered the thought of slicing his hands open again, but tonight Sho would not be deterred. Sugita wouldn't mind if he went a week or two without Sho's presence, but it was vital he depart even for an hour to warn the boy.

The consequences did not concern Sho as they should have. He fingered the slim blade in his hands as he placidly watched the sun go down. Things were definitely moving out there beyond his knowledge, terrible and wonderful things. He thought again about the last words he had exchanged with Sugita concerning the horned people the government sought. Murder was certainly a problem unique to the human race, but Sho could not make sense of Sugita's kind with his previous knowledge. He firmly believed in the "humanity" of them all. Supernatural differences were not factors in his mind.

Sho braced himself, contemplating slicing into his palm instead. The carefully constructed notes left to him by his ancestors detailed the possibilities of each symbol and the areas of most effectiveness. The palms were not a popular choice due to the hand's natural reflexes, but it had not been proven impossible. He had been much more aware of pain lately than before, and much less welcomed to the repercussions of knives and sharp objects.

He was about to prick the unmarred skin on his left hand when the door opened and his cousin's head peered inside the dark room. An unreadable expression was fastened on his face for a moment before his lips twitched in a hesitant smile. The older boy stepped inside and motioned for him to approach and drop the blade. "We're having dinner. Come join us?" he said sadly, melancholy dampening his lovely voice. Sho bit his lip, cursing all fates and preplanned intentions. He had no choice but to store the blade away in his nightstand and join his cousin's side.

Boiling nerves rolled around his stomach, the likes of which he had never experienced before. The family he had never seen, who had been largely ignorant of his existence, was downstairs. Together they were under expectations to perform in a farce for the military. A meal had never given him such anxiety, nor had the prospect of other human beings been so profound a despair. Norio pressed him on, a gentle presence that served as little comfort. What was his beloved cousin like outside this bedroom? Which faces did he show his cousins, aunts, and uncles?

Though he had never taken notice, the house in which he lived had a consuming grandeur unique in itself. There were warm beige walls and polished honey woods, a sharply glinting chandelier of beautiful simplicity suspended from the ceiling. Furthermore, there were voices echoing from the floors below that grew more distinct as Norio escorted him downstairs. He identified children and teenagers, adults and older grandparents among them. Norio, a few measly centimeters taller, threw an arm around his shoulders and held him close as if they were again children.

Cousins cast him curious glances as they walked, whispering all of a sudden over the relative that had always lived above their heads, always anonymous. They attempted to maintain a guise of normalcy for the officials invading their house, but in Sho's eyes they failed. He refused to acknowledge any of their features or respond when someone made a play for friendliness. His hands were bandaged and as always, throbbing uncomfortably. Hardly anyone would have noticed his hands, though.

"This is my son, Sho, who hasn't been feeling well lately," his father said as he approached with a large, muscled figure with an impersonal face. Sho, for all his confidence at the sides of those he knew, shrunk from the man's penetrating gaze as he mumbled the appropriate response and bowed. He had almost never spoken those words before and he feared they sounded dreadfully awkward on his tongue. "Please forgive him; he's a little…troubled and not so open to strangers."

The official in his military garb nodded once, passed a cursory glance over Sho and his cousin, and turned away without a flicker of emotion. Both his father and the man commenced in their previous talk, which had nothing to do with strange people cursed by deformities and an irrational pleasure for murder. Norio drew Sho away and seated him at a solitary armchair, pressing a thin novel he had read three years ago against his chest. The title was a familiar Western one, a classic. Uncomprehending, Sho stared at his cousin until he offered an explanation.

"Students your age are reading that in school. Reasonably, you should be too," he said and turned away to speak with a girl quite a few years Sho's junior. He stared at her, the book limp in his hands, and touched upon the idea that she _could_ have been his blood sister, of which he had two younger than him. She, of course, would have lived in ignorance of his existence. Before she assumed him disturbing on top of his strange presence, Sho opened the novel and concentrated on each indistinguishable word.

Having recalled most of the events that transpired in the story, Sho found that he was terribly bored. His eyes peered above the pages on occasion, absorbing the unfamiliar faces his cousin spoke amiably with until dinner was ready. At the call, his pains returned with full force and his dread closed the confines of his throat as Norio spirited him away to the dining room. The seats had been rearranged in advanced so that Sho could remain by Norio's side, though a young child sat to his left.

His father and mother introduced the small group of men who had arrived to dine, forgoing the fact that they had come to investigate the family. Sho fixed his eyes on the woman who was his mother, spotting Norio's across from the two cousins, and hadn't heard the rest of the speech. This woman who had given him life had visited him in his solitary room roughly five times since his birth, as far as his memory could recall. He felt no attachment for her form except for the usual anxiety that overcame him when he laid eyes upon any human being tonight.

"Diclonius have become a rising threat to civilization. As much as we have not wanted to incite fear of these creatures in the general public, their increase in numbers leaves us unable to save the people with ignorance any longer. It is vital that you report any you encounter or believe you have encountered, even if your suspicions are unsure. If they are proven human and not a monster, they will have nothing to fear." The man faced this gentle appearing family with eloquence that challenged the youngest.

The little boy next to Sho twisted his brow in an effort to understand. Had he been in the mood for good humor, Sho might have relented to a smile, but the innocence of children was a foreign concept to him. His stomach twisted in pain at the mention of his friend. Sugita was no less of a monster than he.

"Many years have passed since we of the human race discovered the existence of these beings. Since you, Kaneyama-san, are of high standing in this region, we from the Institution wish to impart to you a desire for cooperation." The man was speaking to his father now, allowing the family to eat dinner. Sho picked at his food, some of which he had only ever eaten on special occasions. Anxiety wanted him to regurgitate his stomach lining.

Norio forcibly shoved something down his throat using his own hand when he had been distracted. Sho coughed discreetly and glared at his cousin, realizing that he intended to imitate the sort of banter that relatives participated in. The other strange men were observing the family while they spoke with the adults, and Norio must have been aware of it. Sho made sure to stab his cousin with the other end of his chopsticks as he returned with half-hearted attention to his dinner. He was sure that the others were still sneaking him glances.

His hands were still throbbing as he attempted to eat, but compared to days earlier, his suffering was much less. Someone, one of the visitors, inquired of his condition. "What happened to his hands?" he asked. Though it was quite obvious that there were no protrusions on his head, he supposed it was their job to be suspicious. Though Sugita expressed that they were sensitive, it might have been plausible to remove them through surgical means.

"Oh, the poor boy is a bit disillusioned. He thinks we don't care for him, so he intentionally hurt himself," one of the women said. Sho only recognized her as being neither his nor Norio's mother. A sympathetic mask was over her clean features, as if she were truly sorrowful by his injury. Norio had not spoken and his movements had ceased. The woman smiled and motioned towards him. "Why don't you take them off, dear? This way, Suzuki-san's mind can be laid at rest."

Sho bit his lower lip. It hurt to peel the bandages away from the raw wounds and the salve slathered over them. He slowly placed the chopsticks down, turned away from the child intentionally, and began to undo his left hand. The reddened, raised, disgusting scars were uncovered for everyone to see. People shifted uncomfortably, murmuring even as Norio helped him quietly wind the bindings back up. The visitor, emotionless except for a mild hint of surprise, nodded and resumed the conversation. Sho slid his hands below the tablecloth and stared at the unappetizing meal.

A movement beside him shook Sho from his dazed state. The child there seemed torn between wanting to come closer and wanting to back away in fear. With a delayed panic, Sho realized that the adults had probably been telling horror stories of all the feats his ancestors preformed, feats whose secret symbols had long since been discarded. Norio shifted over and Sho saw him shake his hands, mouth moving without words as the little boy pointed to Sho half full of curiosity and half full of terror.

"Nori-kun, isn't _he_ the monster? Takara-chan said he can make the shadows dance! Isn't he bad?" The child whimpered, frightful images of disturbing creatures no doubt lurking in his mind. Sho winced; he had heard from the journals about that ability. It was entirely possible, according to his ancestor two generations previous, to slide the shadows from their very foundations and to terrorize people with their hunger for human life. The symbols to do so had been burned, but that cursed member had been an artist, and carefully drew whatever creatures came to him.

"That's just a silly story! Now shush, that's your cousin you're talking about! Apologize to him!" Norio hissed, not at all fazed by his nickname. Sho would have chuckled if the situation wasn't borderline dangerous. He had never given his cousin a nickname or felt the urge to do so. The little boy pouted and dutifully mumbled an apology, but the damage had been done. The adults looked over.

"What's this about monsters making shadows dance?" the official asked in a deadpan tone. Nervous worry flickered across Norio's face before a cold, uncaring mask overtook him and he faced the man. Sho's eyes were wide. He had never seen his cousin wear such an imposing face, but even though he bore no outward concern now, one of his hands securely grasped Sho's wrist until it ached. No one saw the contact underneath the table. All they saw was the dead serious teenager standing up for the "monster" that lived above their heads.

"That's just a silly little story to make the children stay away from the forest at night. It's not so tame out there, so it's dangerous and scary to children, especially if you fabricate a horror story for them." The man was not persuaded easily. Though it was an absurd matter, Sho supposed many absurd things had been occurring outside these walls. "Sho is the target of their stories because he has a weak constitution and rarely leaves his room. The children don't socialize with him much and don't understand him fully, that's all."

The man nodded once in that peculiar manner of his and stood from the table, walked over with the stride of a military man, and stopped dead in front of the two cousins. Sho fearfully shrunk away from the hand as it approached, his body quivering from the memory of his father's calloused fingers and shattering blows. Norio squeezed his wrist tighter, but it did little to comfort him. There were plenty of things adults could get away with, even if Norio stood between him and his tormentor.

The man's hand landed on the top of his head and roughly ran his fingers over the surface of his skull, right where Sho knew Sugita's bone protrusions to be located. No matter how hard he tried to stop shaking pitifully while this man practically _molested_ his head, he couldn't cease the pursuing memories from flickering before his eyes. The man's other hand grasped his chin and forced him to stare the guy in the eyes. His own father had never touched him as tenderly as this, that night a week ago the exception, and he was still wincing by the time the man pulled away.

At least he seemed to pass the inspection. Though it probably killed his father to stand up for his son, he had to keep appearances up. "Can you give me a good reason for touching my son like that?" he said sternly, though slowly, as not to offend the official. "You can tell by looking closely that he doesn't have any _deformities._"

The man fixed him with a level gaze. "You seem as if you care. I haven't been educated in the middle of nowhere. Both mother and father stared without emotion when the boy showed Suzuki his hands. And both parents stood by wordlessly as I touched their _precious son_. That 'silly story' may be just a rumor, but of this I have no illusion. I will not pretend to care about family issues, but I don't like being lied to. And so I will ask the boy himself: these are your true parents, are they not? And those stories are nothing but stories?"

Sho never had a reason to lie before. Norio always perceived his pain and sufferings before he had a chance to pretend otherwise. He knew that more than his wellbeing rested on his answer. If he could not lie proficiently, they might begin to question him, and if they found out about his curse…

"They are my real parents. I may not feel as if they care sometimes, but they are my parents by birth. As for those stories…they are simply stories our ancestors thought up and wrote down years ago. After all, there's no possible way shadows can get up and walk around, right?" Sho held a straight face until the end, where he applied a small amount of amusement. He had not lied completely, but he had not told the truth either. The man seemed to evaluate his words with all seriousness as Norio was cutting off his circulation underneath the table.

The little boy who had spoken before was silent, but, prodded by a cousin, spoke. "I'm sorry, Sho-oniisan. I didn't mean to call you a monster."

Though it had been prompted and the child probably didn't believe a word of it, Sho smiled and forgave him. That had been the second time someone called him a monster and retracted the comment. It didn't matter to him that it was insincere. As long as he could pretend that there were people who didn't see him as a horrible fiend, he'd be okay. The smile eventually faded, unable to uphold its insincerity any longer. He dreaded glancing up at the family around the dinner table, fearing similar sentiments from them.

The chatter resumed after a torturous wait and Sho found himself more fatigued than he had ever been from blood loss or his father's rare visits. Upholding this strenuous lie was probably more difficult than the longest of marathons or the most brutal beating. To maintain such a lie every day of his life would be the worst torture. Sho could not help but wander towards Sugita in his thoughts, and consider the daily endurance he must have built up to live amongst a society in which he was a perversion.

"I'm dizzy," he announced to Norio, though his head felt perfectly clear. His understanding cousin nodded, abandoned his meal without hesitation, and excused them from the table. Though he had anguished for years over his confinement, now all he wished was for the sanctity of his room and the solitude of a world he understood with perfect clarity. Wandering around in an incorporeal form never proved as difficult as actual living. Even if it was within the confines of his house, the outside world was exhausting.

His cousin returned downstairs shortly after depositing him in his room. Sho, able to breathe now, trailed his fingers over the familiar objects. He paused to slip the journals of his ancestors out from the bookcase. Someday he, too, would be expected to contribute his knowledge to these tomes as the only remaining proof that he had lived. These were the wills of the cursed people who had preceded him. He opened the journals and flipped around to the interesting entries.

'_This requires quite an amount of energy, preparation, and strength to perform. It is not for the faint of heart. If you cannot command the creatures, they will devour you instead of your foe. They feed off the souls and life force of humans and are capable of human speech should you devote enough strength into conjuring them. It is a painful procedure…These monsters have eradicated half the house and its inhabitants before the spell could be broken…It is my sincerest regret in life that I have discovered and unleashed such disasters upon the human race.'_

A man – a young man, still nearly a teenager, Sho reminded himself – named Koji had found the terrible extents of the curse's power. There were much older records that held the reasons _why_ their family was under such a curse, but not even his father had read those for some time. Sho had no idea which god they had angered in the past to have such a blight etched into their blood.

'_Whoever may read this after my death will not know me as I have known me,'_ the last entry continued. _'Therefore, you will never know the passions I have once held so dear. You will never know the poetry that I abstain from in these letters, which encompasses my entire daily life. Nor will you know of the secrets our bodies harbor, nor of the terrible guilt of raising monsters from hell. So I wish to impart to you the following piece of work, this jisei, which I feel has failed in every sense to represent me fully:_

'_These crystals that kill the camellia,_

_Also kill me,_

_And my feelings die on_

_The wings of a cicada'_

Sho had read this tiny poem multiple times, of course. He had also read the dozen or so more contained in these journals in order to determine what his own death poem, a _jisei_, should sound like. Each poem was different, but this one in particular was _different_. Over the years he found the death poems of famous historical figures, and had read the contemporary and ancient literature of multiple countries. This poem was so irregular that he had never figured it out and hadn't the courage to ask Norio about it.

His cousin loathed that he should be forced to write his own will.

As his ancestors such as Koji had expressed, there had been no choice. Koji, born only three short generations previous, had been eloquent. He had chosen the word "crystal", which was a strange object to mention in a death poem. The other symbols were typical, especially of a country man barely out of his adolescence, who had never witnessed and beheld the outside world.

Camellias spoke of people in love, of longing, and of waiting. They were flowers of endurance and the harsh winter months. Mere crystals in the basest sense were not enough to kill a bush of these plants, Sho knew from his cousin's narration of their garden. Cicadas were traditionally meant to symbolize the summer, and the shedding of their shells were meaningful representations of a new beginning and end. These were normal. The character for "feelings" when spoken out loud contained over a dozen different connotations, and this, too, was normal.

Sho allowed his fingers to drift over the words, but he dared not ruin the page with the natural oils from his skin. There were other spells and forms of magic written in these pages, most of which were relatively harmless. The pages had been torn from Koji's records of the process required to summon monsters from the shadows. His last remaining contribution had been far less significant. Discovered a few years before his death, it allowed him to staunch the blood flow in his veins, as well as any other coursing liquid he could touch.

Norio had always been adamant about his desire to test these advancements, and in his respect to his cousin, Sho had never tried a single one besides the bare minimum required. Therefore, when he died he would have nothing to contribute to this journal except for his sentiments, which no one would care about in a few years' time. He ought to experiment just once, as these young men had probably done their entire lives, but the prospects terrified him deep in his heart. He mutilated himself only so that the curse would not consume him in terrible, wretched pain.

_Sho…have you ever thought about killing someone?_

_Your family wants to murder you…You won't kill them and you won't escape. Tell me how that makes sense. Tell me how it's humanly possible._

Though the pages might have been removed, Sho was sure that his ancestors had expressed their extreme and vehement hatred for their confinement and the family. He dimly heard movement downstairs, feet trampling the flights between him and the rest of them. His eyes flickered numerous times towards the window with only thoughts of Sugita in his head. With hardly a conscious thought to the decision, he dropped the journals and crawled into bed, forgoing the usual towels he piled on to avoid dirtying the sheets.

The sharp blade was in the drawer where he left it. He gasped in pain as he pressed it against the tender, healing flesh on his left hand, but couldn't bring himself to slice open his palm. Besides, his heart had been aching in his chest for the past two days. It was time for another excursion or else he'd begin to feel the pain of a heart attack. Though he supposed he could have chosen another body part, he loathed the ugly scars left by the blades. His eyes fluttered closed and his mind melted away, back into his world of dreams that were reality.

Sugita had grown morose and discerning in his absence. Sho expressed his most profound apologies, but the boy merely brushed him away and quivered in an emotion akin to anger or frustration. He had doubtlessly heard the rumors of government officials lurking the country for his "kind". The public at large didn't have extensive knowledge of such things, but the citizens were not stupid either. Sugita had even neglected to dye his hair again; the red roots were beginning to show. Soon an almost pink hue would emerge from underneath the black.

"Sugita, listen to me!" he pleaded, yanking at the boy's arm with enough force to propel him backwards. "The government guys were at my house. They're looking for you – your people. I haven't been able to come, but-"

"Yeah, I know, thanks for _telling me in advance_." The boy spat pure resentment, just short of hatred. Sho recoiled at his venom. For once in his life he had worried more over another person than himself, and this was how he was repaid? He knew he was overreacting; Sugita was in panic mode and probably not at his most rational. But Sho thought he had the right to panic and overwhelming emotions, as well. "I'm only going to be shut up and locked away in some god-forsaken place _if_ they don't decide to shoot me on the spot."

"Hey, you can defend yourself, can't you?"

"…that's not the point," the boy mumbled. Despite his discontent, Sho still played with the tendrils of worry in his heart. Sugita was, after all, a boy. He was not mature enough to reason with the world on a rational level, just as his ancestors had barely been into their adulthood. Sho frowned and stepped closer, wrapping his arms around Sugita's shoulders. He refused to release him, no matter how hard he struggled.

"Sugita-kun, you live in _Kochi_. Maybe it's not Hokkaido, but there are _infinitely _many places for you to hide. All you have to do is find an excuse for your hosts, and I can definitely find you a place to dwell until it's safe. Those guys are looking for _girls_ with pink hair, horn protrusions, and massacres. If you don't give them that, I want you to tell me what will happen." Sho spoke firmly into the boy's ear, the dyed strands of hair faintly brushing against his cheek.

Sugita was quiet for a time. "You're such an idealist," he murmured, his tone unyielding to either direction, but critical. "The world doesn't work so nicely. You can't live in a dream, no matter how much you want to or how real it is. In the end, you exist wherever you exist. That is your life. You can't live in mine; I don't belong to you. No matter how much you hope, you can't accomplish anything without leaving that room. Aren't you supposed to be the wise one?"

Sho released him, reluctant, but with the heavy taste of gall in his mouth. "A war is better won before the battle has begun," he said. His hands were the most solid, painful parts of his body, and they were drenched in red blood. The liquid, even if it descended, never met the floor. "Dreams are the most natural things, which cannot be tainted or decay. My memories and my feelings will die on the cicada's wings."

"Textual support won't help you survive if you can't apply it," Sugita shot back to Sho's quiet ponderings. The boy's shoulders were hunched defensively and it physically hurt Sho to acknowledge that he was unable to cross the distance and communicate with that corporeal body.

It hurt so badly. His very soul and existence ached from the fringes to his core.

"I don't want to die, Makoto," he whimpered. "Norio will be so _sad_ if he has to kill me. There're these…these _spells_ and I don't want to try them; I'm so afraid, but I can't and _why does it hurt?_" Sugita's young voice called out to him in confusion, but this time Sho could not figure out why his image was fading.

When he opened eyes overflowing with tears, a dark and broad shouldered form was hovering above him. It was not his father, and he screamed.

* * *

><p>• So, should be heading back towards the EL part of the story. Hopefully. I forgot I wrote this and didn't post it, so...I actually have a buffer now.<p>

• The old Japanese name for the month of August (the seventh month) was _hazuki_, the month of leaves. In the old Japanese calender the months were behind the European calender. This would make the month of leaves more around September and August would be _fumizuki_, the month of literary. (source: about . com)

• Dear god, that poem. Was. The. Death. Of. Me. Reminds me why I never write poetry. I have a whole big post about it on my writing blog: http : / responsibility begins in dreams . blogspot . com (delete the spaces if you want to read my ranting. i wrote it in japanese too -shot-) I explain it better there, but a _jisei_ is a death poem one writes before they die, usually written by those going off to war or someone about to commit suicide or someone who otherwise knows they will die soon. There is an array of typical imagery and language used in these poems, "crystal" is not one of them. The word that has many meanings can mean anything from memories to a heavy, oppressive feeling.

• This quote by Bob Dylan: "I think the truly natural things are dreams, which nature can't touch with decay." More heavy references to Osamu Dazai's _No Longer Human._


End file.
